


A Person

by liaskywalkerl



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Baby Ani
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23234584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liaskywalkerl/pseuds/liaskywalkerl
Summary: ''I am a person, and my name is Anakin!”
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	A Person

**Author's Note:**

> If I make a mistake in English, please don't correct me. I have no respect for this language. /hj
> 
> Warning for violence.

Anakin could see a boy running towards the outskirts, a backpack hanging on his shoulder as his faint and ragged breathing echoed through the emptiness of the night. He couldn't have been older than twelve years old, his bright blonde hair and light clothes were the only way the young could see him in Tatooine's pitch-black sky. 

''Mom...'' The boy called Shmi ''Where is he going?'' his curious self had inquired ''Do you think he has a ship?'' Anakin asked, enthusiastically as he raised his eyebrows in a surprised expression ''He could take us to-'' 

''Anakin!'' the older woman called him urgently, as her worried face displayed even more signs of age as her expression quickly turned to scare as she realised what the other slave was doing ''Get _away_ from the wind-'' his mother tried to warn him desperately, but it was too late. 

At first, he didn't understand what happened. 

Maybe his mind was still too young to grasp the concept of death- one which he would master in the future. 

The boy's head had been blown up to pieces, but his body remained still, standing on it's dead, frigid legs as the thick, dark blood trailed down to his now soiled clothes, turning the white material to a dark shade of crimson. Anakin's mouth opened in shock as he watched the body fall in the sand, disappearing in the soil, quickly being forgotten. 

It was a painful reminder of the condition of his reality. 

He was _not_ a person.

He was a possession that could quickly be replaced. He wouldn't be mourned- all he would get would be complaints about financial loss, how a waste of money it was to buy him in the first place. 

He didn't cry that day. Or the following one. Despite Tatooine's weather, his body felt cold as ice and heavy as bricks, his mind was so full that he couldn't think of anything at all, he felt as if he was a programmed droid, doing all his work on automatic. He felt as dead as the corpse in the sand. 

That night, Anakin was laying in his bed, weeping quietly in the dark with nothing but his pillows and thin sheets for company. The hurt in his chest seemed deeper and more painful at each passing second. Shadows of the sand storm speckled the walls of his bedroom, giving the room an eerie atmosphere, which didn't help. Threepio was left turned off by the side of his desk- the way the droid was standing, still and quiet, made tears come to his eyes as his mind was attacked with the images of the dead slave. 

_I wonder if he is cold, down in the sand,_ the intrusive thought crawled up to Ani's mind 

_What if I die and mom never knows what happened to me?_

_It is so unfair,_ he thought, using the sleeves of his nightgown to dry his tear-stained face _Why me? Why I have to be a slave?_

Shmi noticed her son's unusual behaviour while she was checking how many portions they had left. Anakin was sitting on the kitchen table; his arms crossed over it as he rested his cheek on them, his legs were hanging from the chair, still- in contrast to his usual energetic self, who would keep his head high and feet wiggling as he would chat on and on about his new droid idea or the new parts he had found. 

''Ani, dear, are you all right?'' she asked worriedly- already knowing the answer. 

Anakin looked up at his mother, tears slowly coming up to his eyes ''No-'' he shook his head ''It is unfair, mom!'' the child protested ''Why do we have to live like this? Why do people need slaves?'' 

She allowed him bitterness, for she shared it. 

Life as a slave was- to say the least- hard. The feeling of not owning even yourself and being at someone else's mercy was terrifying, the constant threat of being torn apart of Anakin makes Shmi's skin crawl to this day, even if they had reached some sort of stability in their lives.

Shmi kneeled by his side, sighing, placing one hand in his shoulder ''Men are greedy, Anakin. They only think about themselves, and they do anything to gain power over others.'' she explained ''Some people are born to be evil, while others are born to be good, and fight this evilness.'' his mother gave him a small smile ''But, some can have a choice. It is all about who you decide to be.'' 

Anakin's chin quivered ''But I'm just a slave.'' his broken voice echoed in the small adobe house. 

''You are so much more than just this.'' she insisted, drying a tear that had rolled down her son's cheek with her thumb. ''Always remember; before anything else- even if people try to convince you otherwise, 

_You are a person._

His breathing came slowly and harsh- unnatural and automatically from the mechanisms wired in his chest who were responsible for taking the place of his useless lungs. The sounds of his surroundings were artificial- directly inserted in his brain, as was his vision; the product of optical sensors, displaying him the hideous world in which he would have to live. 

_Not live,_ he corrected himself _, survive._

As his consciousness slowly started to fade, his memories were dragged to that day in Tatooine.

_You are a person._

His chest expanded mechanically; his prosthetics moved grotesquely.

_Am I?_


End file.
